Las Terrazas, Cuba
We were at Las Terrazas, a settlement high in the jungles of
Cuba’s highest mountain range. There, nestled away in Cuba’s sunny, mountainous
countryside on the shores of a quiet, green mountain lake, pale homes with
clay-colored roofs and open windows lay tucked into the hillsides among the
mango trees, bromeliads, and hibiscus hedges.
The group had stopped to visit a tiny coffee shop that was
decades old. Our guide, Julio, told us that Café
de María had started as support for a servant, María, in the 1940’s when she
lost her husband. A business man came and had a cup of her coffee, which she
worked daily to make locally for plantation owners and neighbors.
Her recipes are still served, and each member of the group
enjoyed the shady breeze on the small terrace and a cup of Café de María.
María’s son worked the coffee machines behind the counter and talked with us
all as we happily sampled the famous coffee.
Then, I saw an older woman peering from an upper window just
above the staircase we had taken down onto the platform with the counter and
small tables and chairs. She looked over us with quiet, dark brown eyes, her
wrinkled and worn hands folded peacefully on the windowsill. She had short,
grey hair that curled gently around a face that I was certain had been quite
beautiful when youth had filled her days.
Then, María’s son waved up to the window and said, “Yes,
that’s my mother.”
It was María.
In all of the moments where I had encountered Cuban history
on the trip, I never felt like I’d truly walked along beside it until then. Here
was a wonderful story in a single woman who had lived through the best and
darkest of Cuba’s moments, and she lived in the mountains, watching her son as
he brewed her coffee recipes for mingling tourists and smiling neighbors,
quietly standing in a window.
I asked if I could take a picture of her with a bag of her
coffee beans, which she silently accepted with a small smile that only deepened
the wrinkles in her face to a strangely adorable depth. When I had taken the
picture, I walked up the few steps and shook her hand. I smiled at her.
She smiled back.
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